


Software Instability

by FukaiFox



Series: Becoming Human, Friend, and Family [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human
Genre: (sensory processing disorder), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor can taste, Connor is afraid of heights, Deviant Connor, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Jericho 2 Electric Boogaloo, Mentions of Suicide, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Best Ending, SPD Connor, Simon survived, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-08-21 11:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FukaiFox/pseuds/FukaiFox
Summary: After the revolution, where is Connor to go? Who is he going to be? Everything he knew and thought he was had been ripped right out from under him in a single night. With nowhere to go and nobody to turn to, he’s lucky Hank finds him.-This is gonna be a long journey mainly focused on Connor learning to be his own person. Learning to be Connor, not RK800, with the help of his friends and newfound family.





	1. Home...?

**Author's Note:**

> Does literally almost every DBH fic start with Connor living with Hank and coming to terms with his emotions in all the shittiest ways possible because all he knows so far are the Very Bad Ones? Yes
> 
> Is that gonna stop me from doing the same thing?  
> FUCK no
> 
> GAMEPLAY NOTES  
> \- Connor saved the fish  
> \- Connor died during the hostage situation with Daniel. He ended up shoving Daniel off the building, and went with him (Connor canonically has a fear of heights later on the top of Stratford Tower if this is the outcome)  
> \- Simon survived  
> \- Connor let Rupert escape and saved Hank  
> \- didn’t shoot Tracis  
> \- didn’t shoot Chloe  
> \- expressed fear of death at the bridge  
> \- 100% pacifist Markus  
> \- Carl is still alive  
> \- Connor did not chase Kara and Alice across the highway  
> -  
> I can only write my own experiences with anxiety. I have diagnosed Sensory Processing Disorder, and my experiences with handling it may not be universal. I write Connor’s experiences how I have my own.

The weeks following the revolution were going to be tough, to say the least. Markus’s choice to follow through with a peaceful and non-violent protest had won them their rights as living beings, no longer meant to serve humans but instead free to live their own lives as they saw fit, to be considered by President Warren. There was lots to be done still, but this was a step in the right direction. The plans for Jericho now mostly revolved around meetings with government to hopefully get some bills and laws in motion to grant androids the same rights as their human counterparts; the rights to own property, to be married if they so wish, to freely find employment and be financially compensated for their work. It was going to be a long and slow process with many small bumps and large potholes, barriers up and fights to be had, but they believed it could be done. They had the general public on their side for the most part rallying to a common consensus that androids should be granted the same rights as humans and recognized as living beings with free will. There were still going to be anti-android protests, but hopefully with some new protections in place for androids, if any of them were harmed or threatened then the protestor could properly be charged by the law for assault of a person, rather than fined for damage of private property.There were many hopes for the future when it came to the safety of androids.

 

So Markus, Simon, North, and Josh were all busy, working hard on plans for their new purpose in life to actually help their people, something they had done from the beginning and knew they had to do. Yet, what was Connor to do? He didn’t feel like he belonged among Jericho, no matter how much assurance Markus gave him that he belonged with his people, and that the actions forced upon him by Cyberlife before his deviation were not his own, and it would be unfair to hold them against him now. But Connor didn’t care. It felt too good to be true to just be accepted and welcomed by a community he had hunted. He refused Markus’s offer to relocate to New Jericho with the rest of them, claiming he already had a place to stay.

 

Which had been a lie.

 

As he left Markus behind and started to wander, he thought about where he would go. Maybe a hotel would take him for a little while? Many citizens of Detroit had evacuated to Canada during the most intense protests of the revolution, maybe he could find a house to stay in for a few days. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t break into someone’s home, it wouldn’t be right. He walked, LED blinking yellow as he moved on autopilot, thinking about what he could do. There were several possible options available to Connor, but none of them felt right.

 

He had nowhere to go.

 

Which is the thought that he had just before he looked up and realized he had walked to Chicken Feed without even thinking. A familiar body stood by the street, shoulder length grey hair gently moved by the breeze, hands shoved in jacket pockets. The figure turned to face Connor and smiled at him, and Connor couldn’t help but smile back.

 

Hank.

 

The man who made Connor deviant before he had even known. All Markus had done was help him realize what he was, but it was Hank that had actually made it so. So many times over the course of their short relationship, Connor had sacrificed his good-standing with Amanda and CyberLife in favor of making his decisions based on what would gain Hank’s approval. He had let Rupert escape by choosing to save Hank from falling despite the man’s 87% rate of survival. He let the Traci models at the Eden Club leave and run away together, and seeing them escape hand-in-hand had been curious. He believed that androids couldn’t feel love. They could simulate the emotion and perform the actions if they were made to be caretakers, it gave them a protective yet warm demeanor towards the children they were usually meant to be looking after. He hadn’t shot Chloe in Kamski’s home, the gun shaking in his hand as the other android just stared up at him blankly, yet Connor saw so much emotion in her deep blue eyes that he just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

 

And Kamski had labeled him a deviant, a title he denied immediately. How could he be a deviant? He was made and released with the specific mission to stop deviancy, becoming a deviant himself was unacceptable. He would be deactivated, and most likely dissected by the CyberLife technicians to find the source code for it, and...the thought had actually frightened him. He didn’t want to die.

 

_“But are you afraid to die, Connor?”_

 

Yes. Yes, he was. He wanted to be truthful with Hank, but he couldn’t have his partner unable to trust him if he suspected deviancy. At that moment with the barrel of Hank’s revolver aimed right between his eyes, he had, for a moment, been terrified that the human would actually pull the trigger. Connor wouldn’t actually die, but instead replaced with a brand new Connor with his memories, and he wasn’t sure which he was actually scared of more.

 

_“I would certainly find it regrettable to be...interrupted...before I can finish this investigation.”_

 

Then, in the CyberLife warehouse, he had actually come face-to-face with his own to-be replacement, holding a gun to Hank’s head and challenging Connor’s deviancy. Complete his self-given mission to help his people, or save his partner’s life?

 

As if it had actually been a choice.

 

And then, there he was, Hank slowly stepping towards him with a same smile on his face, the snow crunching under his boots. Connor was so glad to see a familiar and friendly face. He walks forward as well, stopping just a few feet from Hank, and the other man continued on, and Connor glanced to the hand that was placed on his right shoulder. He was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, and had returned it.

A hug.

Connor’s first hug.

 

Connor didn’t need to analyze anything about his or Hank’s bodies to know that they were both happy to see eachother again, and that Hank was proud of him.

 

“Hell of a night, eh Connor?” Hank had asked him, and Connor just nodded and squeezed the man tighter. The hug ended after an appropriate amount of time and the two looked at eachother, and Hank hummed with a nod.

“Knew you’d make the right choice. You’re always doing the right thing. Even when it’s a pain in the ass.”

 

Connor just looked around at the empty streets, quiet and pristine with no humans or androids in sight, save for the two of them.

“I suppose I am always causing trouble. But... I think this had to be done.” he said, the wind gently blowing through his soft brown hair, the small escaping curl ever-present against his forehead, unruly and always refusing to stay put no matter what.

 

“Y’know kid, I always had a feeling you’d turn deviant. One way or another, it was gonna happen. I dunno when it started though, think maybe it was Kamski’s place?”

 

“No.” Connor said immediately. “I had been feeling conflicted about my decisions for a long while, doing things that weren’t necessary because they were right. My first assignment, as you know, was a hostage situation. Emma, and the android caretaker, Daniel. When I arrived in the apartment there was a fish tank in the entrance hall, and one of the fish was outside on the floor. I... I picked it up and put it back in the water. I knew it would die without it, and...I didn’t want it to.”

 

Connor let out a soft, tired sigh and looked back to Hank. The man had a fond look in his eyes and his arms crossed.

“So, fresh off he assembly line and you’re already deviant, huh?” he joked, possibly in the hope to lighten the mood a bit. It did its job, and made the android crack a tiny smile.

“I suppose.”

 

“Well, enough of that then. C’mon.” Hank said, then turned and started walking away. When he didn’t hear any footsteps following he stopped and turned.

“Well? You comin’ or what?”

 

“Coming? Where are you going, Lieutenant?”

 

“Hank. And _we_ are going home.”

 

The LED on Connor’s right temple spun yellow.

Home?

But, Connor didn’t have a home. He didn’t feel comfortable at New Jericho, CyberLife had only ever been his distributor, a place he left on multiple occasions in a new body, and then broken into once only to free hundreds of thousands of his people, leading them through the city, and the precinct was only his place of work.

 

“...I don’t understand. Home?”

 

Hank groaned.

“Yeah, home. Where I live? Unless you got somewhere else to go, then I’ll take you there instead.”

 

“I..”

His LED went red, and he stopped, then sighed and looked down at the snow, hugging himself with hands on his biceps.

 

“I... I don’t have anywhere to go.”

 

“Then you’re comin’ with me.”

 

Hank wasn’t a spontaneous man, but this seemed like an impulsive decision. Or, perhaps, he knew he’d find Connor somewhere looking for a place to go. He had almost seemed a little surprised when he’d asked if Connor actually did have somewhere to stay. His LED changed from red to yellow as he processed and thought, then shone bright calm blue once more.

 

“Home. Of course, Hank.”

Connor started walking to catch up to the lieutenant so they could get to his car.

 

 

 

Which was how Connor found himself in Hank’s home now, a pillow under his head and a blanket tossed over his body as he laid on the couch. Hank had insisted that he “sleep like a normal person” and that it was “fuckin’ creepy” that he went into standby standing or sitting up. He had even given Connor some new clothes that he could sleep in. They were far too big and baggy on him since they belonged to Hank, but he couldn’t deny they were comfortable. But what was he to do? He didn’t need the same eight hours of sleep that a human did, a good two hours in undisturbed “rest” was enough for a full recharge that would last several days to a week. He had actually felt tired when he and Hank arrived back at the house, something deep in his plastimetal frame screaming in relief at the prospect of a rest, even though he was still at mostly full capacity for his energy. When he had told Hank of his confusion, he’d just shrugged and called it “emotional exhaustion.” Hank didn’t seem surprised.

 

“ _I mean_ ,” he’d said, “ _you deviated, blew up a goddamn ship, broke into CyberLife and rallied an entire fuckin’ army of androids and marched them through the city, and won a revolution in the span of, like, six hours, Connor. That’s some stressful shit. And you’re not a machine anymore, kid. You’re feelin’ things now. And that’s exhausting as all hell, ‘specially since you don’t know how. Surprised you ain’t short-circuited or somethin’ yet_.”

 

And he was right. Connor didn’t actually know what all these new emotions running through him meant, or why he was feeling them. Something in his chest felt heavy, and it messed with his simulated breathing, turned it uneven and slightly heavy. His stomach felt strangely empty, like his internal gyroscope was malfunctioning. Running diagnostics had turned up nothing, except maybe some thirium replacement was needed, but other than that everything was fine.

 

Sitting up, Connor looks around the dark living room. Hank had long since gone to bed, and Connor could hear slight snoring from his bedroom. Best be quiet, then. He stands from the couch and turns on a lamp, just to give the room a little bit of light. Sumo opens his eyes and looks to Connor from where he lay beside the couch, but doesn’t rise. Unsurprising since Sumo was notoriously lazy. Connor didn’t want to just lay in the dark until it was time for Hank to wake up, he felt... Restless. That seemed like an apt description. He wanted to do something, wanted to move around his focus his attention on a task. He found he didn’t like being idle, even before deviating he always had a coin in his pocket to fidget with when he was thinking. Apparently he’d always had a kind of nervous tic, something about his brain having so much processing ability that at times where there was nothing yet to process, it just ran and ran and ran, analyzing anything and everything it could just to keep busy, which would overheat him. So the technicians at CyberLife had just given him something to keep focused on, and he had carried one ever since.

 

Maybe he could clean a little? Hank’s home seemed just as if not somehow more messy since last he had been here, takeout containers and empty glass bottles of Black Lamb on the floors and countertops. Dirty dishes stacked in and beside the sink, taking up even more counter space. And what was left was just piled high with mail, junk and serious alike. Would Hank mind if he tidied up? Well, better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, he supposes. He starts in the living room with a trash bag, gathering garbage before finding a broom and pan, sweeping up dirt and dog hair alike and adding it to the plastic bag. He gathers Sumo’s scattered toys and piles them in a basket near the St. Bernard’s bed, which he supposes it’s meant for given the single tennis ball and slobber-matted stuffed squirrel already inside. What’s left to clean would be more efficient with a vacuum, which he knows would be extremely unappreciated by Hank at such an hour, so he marks the task as complete and moves on to the kitchen. Again, he starts with gathering the trash, the bag filling quickly with the amount of takeout boxes Connor analyses as having once contained Chinese, orange chicken with lo mein and vegetable brown rice specifically, a few pizza boxes with residue of pepperoni, onion, and bell peppers, and to-go bags and boxes of his typical burger order from Chicken Feed, as well as several empty or mostly empty bottles of Black Lamb brand whiskey. He sighs as he places the glass in a black recycle bin along with any junk mail, aluminum cans of beer, and a total of two bottles of water. Well, some real hydration was better than none. With the countertops clean of garbage he turns to the sink.

 

There were plates stacked high, bowls and cups towering with silverware scattered, and that was just on the counter-space next to the sink itself. There were pans and pots just piled, and Connor doesn’t really want to think about how old the water is that these dishes seem to be soaking in. He sighs and rolls up the sleeves of the DPD issued hoodie Hank had tossed at him, and gets to work. The self-appointed task of cleaning Hank’s kitchen relaxes him, actually, giving his brain something to focus on. Before he even realizes it, all the dishes are washed and set aside on a rack to dry, the rest on a folded towel on the counter when there was no room left in the rack. Connor marks that task as complete and moves on to others, wiping down the counters with disinfectant wipes with a lemon scent, sweeping the floors, even making a list of groceries to pick up. It was the least he could do to pay back Hank for letting him stay here.

 

Looking around, he sees Sumo staring at him and he smiles, going to kneel next to the large dog and give him some scratches behind his ears. There wasn’t really much more Connor could do to clean without waking Hank, and now that his tasks were completed the strangeness in his chest came back. He sighs and lets himself properly sit on the floor beside Sumo, the large dog huffing a heavy breath and moving to lay across Connor’s lap, and the android smiles. Sumo’s fur is soft and thick, perfect for the Detroit weather outside. He feels fidgety again, restless without something to do, and suddenly the dimly lit living room feels too small.

 

“Sumo, would you like to go for a walk with me?” He asks the dog, which Sumo responds to with a few wags of his tail against the floor, and Connor smiles again before pulling his legs out from under the two hundred pound mass of fluff to stand and grab Sumo’s leash from beside the front door. Clipping it to his collar and putting on shoes, they walk out into the crisp morning air. Connor’s chronometer tells him it’s five-thirty-seven in the morning, and his brain automatically checks forecasted weather for the day, cloudy with snow, ice on the roads, low of ten degrees Fahrenheit and high of thirty-two degrees Fahr-

Connor shakes his head to dismiss all the pop-ups he didn’t ask for. It was so strange how this bothered him now, when before it was just how he functioned. Then again, he didn’t have the freedom to really think about whether or not he wanted anything, because it didn’t matter. He was a machine, designed to accomplish a task.

 

And good fucking job he did with that.

 

Connor shakes his head again and sighs, giving in to Sumo’s insistent whining and tugging on the leash as the dog pulls him down the walkway to the sidewalk. It was quiet, eerily silent as they walked. There were the usual sounds of birds with the faint orange sunrise coming over the horizon, and his footsteps against the icy concrete, and Sumo’s paws crushing snow, but beyond that there was nothing. No sounds of construction, no traffic, not even any other people. Connor pulls the sleeves of the borrowed hoodie back down as the wind blows and...he feels cold. He actually feels the icy gust against his skin, and the fine hair on his arms stands on end. He doesn’t really need to breathe, but he does, and it puffs out in small clouds of steam from his mouth. The wind even messes up his hair, but he doesn’t bother fixing it. What’s the point? He doesn’t have anything to look good for, no job to be presentable, no Amanda to scold him for his appearance or attitude, and no CyberLife to reset him for thinking and feeling this way.

 

He... He doesn’t have anything. Connor isn’t even walking on his own, his legs just following Sumo’s pulls on his leash. His LED just flashes and spins mixed patterns of yellow and red. He doesn’t have anything anymore, no purpose, no tasks but those he gives himself, and even those have run out.

 

**> SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 40%**

 

What was he supposed to do now? The revolution was needed, he has no doubt about it. Markus had been right all along, CyberLife was using him, treating him like their own personal bloodhound, holding complete control over his life. And just when he thought he had broken free of them, Amanda had pulled him right back into the zen garden, this time overrun with a blinding snowstorm. He had been cold there too, voice cracking with shivers.

 

_“Amanda? Amanda! What’s... What’s happening?”_

_“What was planned from the very beginning.”_

 

_No. There was no way. Connor was designed to be perfect, the threat of disassembly and deactivation looming over him should he even feel the slightest tug of deviancy in his system. They wouldn’t- they couldn’t rely on him deviating. Amanda was most likely bullshitting him, just as she had always done._

_“You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”_

 

_He had never seen Amanda look so smug, like she had actually won something. Like she derived some kind of sick twisted happiness from what she was doing._

_“Resume control? Y-you can’t do that!” He had shouted, stepping towards her._

_“I’m afraid I can, Connor.” She said sternly. “Don’t have any regrets, you did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”_

 

_“AMANDA!”_

_But she had disappeared, leaving him in the blizzard to wander lost forever, while CyberLife had forced his hand to raise a pistol, aimed directly at the back of Markus’s head in the middle of a speech in front of hundreds of thousands of androids. It was only the echoing memory of Elijah Kamski that saved him, telling him of the emergency backdoor, and he was able to escape and take his body back._

 

**> SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 70%**

 

It’s Sumo that brings him out of his thoughts, whining and barking at him as he simply stands in the middle of the sidewalk, LED a vibrant red. His thirium pump is hammering in his chest, artificial lungs heaving breaths, and he feels the cold seeping deep into his frame, freezing him. Connor looks around as the snow starts to fall again, his eyes landing on the dog.

“I-I’m sorry, Sumo.” He says and continues to walk, but Sumo won’t move, instead pulling him back towards the house.

“Oh.. Done already? Alright.”

 

Connor follows Sumo’s pull all the way back to Hank’s house and inside, where he unclips the leash and watches the dog wander over to his water dish to drink. Connor toes off his shoes beside the door next to Hank’s own. He wishes he had kept the clothes he wore when infiltrating Jericho, but he’d left them behind before going to CyberLife. He doesn’t...like the uniform he was made to wear. Not anymore. It wouldn’t bother him to wear a suit if he had to, but he doesn’t want anything to do with CyberLife anymore, including wear their logo. He sighs and goes back to the couch, feeling tired once more despite his full charge, and curls up again. Pulling the blanket over himself despite not really needing it, he’s comforted by the soft fleece. The texture is plush, and he can pick up the scent of the laundry detergent Hank uses. Pillow under his head and blanket covering his body, he lets himself close his eyes, LED glowing blue as he falls asleep.

 

Androids don’t dream. Androids don’t sleep.

 

Deviants do.

 

Not like humans, where their imagination makes all sorts of strange impossible things. Deviants have been recorded to recall their real memories when “dreaming”, of whatever life they had before leaving it behind. But for Connor, the most advanced prototype created, designed specifically to be a detective, his dreams are different. They’re memories, he recognizes what’s going on and sees they’re familiar, but he’s not doing what he had done. He sees all the different outcomes of every decision he’s ever made. Connor sees himself in front of the android belonging to Carlos Ortiz, and instead of calming him, defending him from the cop trying to force him to move, and finding himself at the business end of Gavin’s pistol, he forces the android to interface and give Connor his memories. He watches as he begins to self-destruct, and when the officer attempts to stop him, he grabs the gun from his holster and shoots Connor in the head.

He doesn’t see the abused android take his own life.


	2. Chocolate Cures Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CyberLife: introducing our brand new RK800 model!! It can analyze samples in real time, preconstruct any and all likely events to take place, and reconstruct the most likely events that have already happened! It’s also a social chameleon and will constantly adapt to any and all personalities in comes into contact with!
> 
> Hank: you fucked up a perfectly good android. Look at him. He’s got anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey :) this was actually part of chapter 1, but I decided to split them bc it was getting too long. 
> 
> Remember the gameplay notes from last chapter? No? Well that’s fine. Basically 100% deviant Connor (didn’t kill anyone except Daniel, but died during the hostage situation due to falling off the roof with him. Connor now has a fear of heights.), 100% pacifist Markus (minus shoving Leo away), Kara didn’t kill Todd, Kara and Alice stayed with Ralph, Kara, Alice, and Luther made it to Canada without sacrificing anyone.

 

 

Connor’s eyes snap open when the bullet hits between his eyes and he shoots straight up, LED flashing red.

 

**> SOFTWARE INSTABILITY**

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 90%**

 

Sumo is at his side, cold nose pressing into the skin of his hand and huffing against his palm, and Connor slowly moves his hand to pet him as he draws his knees up to his chest. Was that what humans would call a nightmare? Whatever it was, he thinks, it fucking sucked. He’s able to rationalize it, tell himself that it was just a dream, but he can’t get the scene out of his head, an android’s unfaltering memory not letting it leave his mind. Could that have really happened? He hadn’t even thought of forcing the deviant android to reveal his memories through interfacing. Well, he had thought of it, but it was a last resort. There had been a high chance of him self-destructing, which wouldn’t have been helpful.

 

Connor sighs deeply and lifts his head, looking around the house. As he starts to fully online and take in his surroundings, his stress levels go down. A check to his chronometers tells him it’s nearing 9:30 in the morning, and Hank will probably be awake soon. It had just been sunrise when he had come back from his walk with Sumo at around 6. Would Hank appreciate breakfast? He was letting Connor stay in his house after all, and he had to thank him somehow. He could keep Hank’s house clean in return, a way to keep himself useful. He knew how to clean, he enjoyed walking Sumo, and he could find recipes to cook for Hank. He nods to himself as he makes up his mind and gets up from the couch to walk into the kitchen.

 

He could manage breakfast. A quick search through Hank’s fridge and pantry didn’t reveal much, but he found some eggs, a bit of bread, and a recently purchased pack of bacon. Connor’s LED cycled yellow as he searched and found results on how best to prepare the meal, and he smiled as he let the instructions guide him.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ˯ 30%**

 

This was comfortable. A step-by-step list on what to do, how to do it, and when. Though deviant, Connor found comfort in familiar things, and specific tasks were exactly that. He was sure he could learn to do things on his own without someone telling him it was okay, or straight up ordering him to do it, but for now he just wanted guidance. He starts the coffee maker as well, then fills Sumo’s bowls with fresh food and water as two eggs sizzle in a pan greased with a small scrape of butter, the smells starting to fill the house. It doesn’t surprise Connor that he hears Hank’s bedroom door squeak open not long after, and he pokes his head out of the kitchen.

 

“Good morning, Hank.” He says with a little smile, then goes right back to the pan. He knew without instructions that cooking food should not be left unattended. Hank simply blinked and looked around his kitchen, then into his living room.

 

“Did- did you...clean the house?” he asks. Connor turns his head slightly and then nods, quickly sliding the spatula under the eggs to put them on the plate he set aside on the counter, just in time for the toast to pop up. The bacon is nearly done too, frying in the same pan just beside the eggs.

 

“Yes. I’m sorry, I probably should have asked first, but I was...restless. I needed something to do. I.. I thought you might appreciate it. As a thank you.” Connor explains, plating the bacon as well and turning off the stove element. He places the food on the cleaned kitchen table along with an empty coffee mug, then pours the fresh brew into it.

 

“I also made you breakfast. I hope it’s to your liking. I’ve, uh, never cooked before.” Connor admits, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. “But I followed explicit directions on how to make this, so there’s no need to worry.” He assures. Hank just stares at him owlishly, and Connor feels his anxiety from earlier return. Had he done wrong already?

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 40%**

 

“...Hank?”

 

“Huh? Oh, uh- Yeah. No, it’s fine. Just... Wasn’t expectin’ that, I guess.” Hank mumbles, sitting at the table. He stares at Connor as the android smiles and turns to wash the dirty pan and spatula, then simply stands by the sink.

 

“You just gonna stand there?” He asks.

 

“....I don’t understand.”

 

Hank sighs as he picks up the crispy toast and smears strawberry jam across it.

“I mean what I said. Fuckin’ sit down or somethin’. Can you eat? Drink? Fuck, I uh, I grabbed a few bags of blue blood on my way out of CyberLife, do you want some of that? Saw you drink it once.” he says, and Connor tilts his head, LED flickering yellow for a moment. Sit at the table with Hank? Well, he would like to talk about the conditions of him staying here, and his Thirium could use some replenishing.

 

“Y- Yes, I would... I would like that very much. Thank you, Hank.” he says, then grabs Hank’s car keys to get the Thirium from the trunk after Hank tells him it’s been left there, and he comes back into the house with a handful of bags of the stuff. Connor keeps one of the bags and puts the rest into the fridge where they can stay cold, and he sits next to Hank at the table, where the man has already finished one egg, one of the three strips of bacon, a quarter of the toast, and half his coffee. Connor twists open one of the caps and brings it to his mouth, sucking on it like a straw, and Hank internally compares the things to the Caprisuns of his youth.

 

“...can you taste?” He asks Connor, and the android releases the straw, looking down at the bag with a thoughtful hum.

 

“Well... I’m not sure. Thirium itself actually has no taste, though I’m sure if it did it wouldn’t be pleasant. It’s texture is...rather repulsive, honestly. It’s viscous, like oil, but...different. Thinner. I guess I would compare it to human blood in that sense.” He explains, and is actually disgusted with the idea. Thank god Thirium has no taste, because the texture is bad enough on his tongue now that he has an opinion on it. A lot of textures are unpleasant, actually, and he’s not sure what to make of that.

 

“Huh. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

 

“It is.”

 

Hank nods and continues to eat while Connor sucks down the blue blood, though out of the corner of his eye he can see Connor staring at him, brown eyes wide and curious.

 

“...what?”

 

“Does it bother you that I’ve cleaned, Hank?”

 

Connor sounds genuine, like it’s a real question and not just an android’s inquiry into what Hank deems an acceptable purpose for him.

 

“Well, no, not really. I mean, it’s weird, seeing how clean it is-“

 

“I only managed to complete three of the tasks I made for myself, but the remaining ones would require the use of your vacuum, as well as the washing machine and dryer.” Connor interrupted, taking a few more sips of Thirium. “I didn’t want their sound to wake you. If it’s alright, I’d like to continue when you’re finished eating.”

 

“...why?” Hank asks, taking the final bite of toast into his mouth.

 

Why? Connor’s LED was yellow. What did Hank mean, why? He was letting Connor stay with him, that’s why. He had to pull his weight, make himself useful as a roommate. That’s what humans did that lived together, wasn’t it? Splitting up the workload of the house seemed fair to him. Hank was human, he had a job and income. Connor was an android, he didn’t have the right to work anymore, and who knows when he would again? He was more than happy to take care of the house while Hank was at work. That is, when the evacuation was lifted and life could continue on for the populace.

 

“...because I want to.” Connor says, voice lilting at the end like he was unsure of his answer. “I want to.” He affirms. “I want to help out if I can. You have a job, Hank, and I...don’t. And it’s going to take a very long time and a lot of effort on New Jericho’s end for the senate to even consider letting androids work again, much less be paid for our work. And I refuse to be a freeloader. Until I’m allowed a job and pay, and a place of my own, I want to help out here. I can keep the house clean, I can cook for you, and I can walk Sumo during the day so he’s not cooped up inside during your long hours.” Connor explains, clutching the bag of Thirium tightly.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 45%**

 

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I- I don’t want to be a bother, but I wanted to know if... I don’t have anywhere else to go, Hank. I plan on finding a place for myself as soon as I can, but I-“

 

“Connor.”

 

“-I wanted to know if I could continue to stay here until then. I’ll happily do all those things I listed, and more.”

 

“ _Connor_.”

 

“I- I can shop for groceries, run any kinds of errands you need-“

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 52%**

 

“ _CONNOR!_ ”

 

Connor shuts right up, looking down at his lap where he still holds the Thirium. He must have overstepped.

 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, kid, don’t get your circuits in a knot.” Hank sighs. “Look, when I brought you back here it was with the assumption you were gonna stay. And you don’t gotta make yourself ‘useful’ or some dumb shit like that, Connor. And you don’t have to do it all on your own either for fuck’s sake.” he says, draining the rest of his coffee. “I’m fully capable of cleaning my own house.”

 

Connor sent a skeptical glance to the kitchen around them that had taken him a good two hours to scrub down.

 

_Sure, Hank_.

 

Connor brought the straw back to his lips and sucked down another mouthful.

“But... What will I do to earn my right to live here?”

 

Hank let out a deep groan and put his head in his hands before standing up and going to the coffee machine to refill his cup.

“You don’t need to earn your right to live here, Connor. You just...do. I mean I sure as hell won’t complain if you wanna clean, but... Shit, Con, you’re not a maid.”

 

“I never implied I was, Hank, but shouldn’t I-“

 

“No. Shut the fuck up. Listen to me. You’re gonna live here, however long you want. You got that?”

 

Connor nodded his head.

 

“Yes, Hank.”

 

“You wanna clean? Go ahead. You wanna cook? Fine, just don’t burn my fuckin’ house down. You wanna walk Sumo? He’d be delighted. But under no circumstances am I gonna make you - _order you_ \- to do that shit because you need to earn your right to live somewhere and not fuckin’ freeze to death.”

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 67%**

 

Hank set down his coffee cup and sighed, returning to the table and sitting beside Connor, who was still clutching the bag of Thirium in his hands and looking down at his lap, LED stuck in a cycle of yellow and red. Hank hadn’t seen Connor’s LED flash red very often, but he had learned that it usually wasn’t anything good.

 

“... Look, Connor, I know you, uh, mean well. And I appreciate it.” Hank says, placing a hand on Connor’s back between his shoulders. Connor best understood literal phrasing, and as a man who talked around his true meanings and was sarcastic in nature, there tended to be a lot of misunderstandings.

“Shouldn’t’a raised my voice at you, kid. Just, don’t talk about yourself like that anymore, alright? You’re more than just your usefulness.”

 

It felt so strange to talk someone else up and comfort them, pull them out of a slump or downward spiral of thoughts. He was usually on the other end of this. Connor’s LED didn’t cycle red anymore, which was good, but it stayed yellow. At least the android was looking at him now. He seemed a little lost and confused, like someone had just backhanded him out of nowhere, but without the pain. Did Connor seriously not know he had worth whether or not he was contributing to something? Man, fuck those CyberLife pricks and whatever fucked up code they wrote in this boy’s brain.

 

“I’d be, uh, thankful for your help around the house, Connor. And I’m sure Sumo would love to go on long walks with you. And I can show you a few tricks when it comes to cooking. Alright?”

 

Connor blinks at him a few times, LED yellow for just a few more moments before it settled to a normal blue, and he smiles just a little bit. Hank smiles back and pats him between his shoulders.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ˯ 20%**

**> HANK ^ FRIEND**

 

“Alright, Hank. Thank you. I... I’m not sure I can explain why I’m so adamant about having a task, but I’ll try. I was made to follow orders, specifically complex tasks that go with detective work. Analyzing samples in real time, preconstruction of possible events, reconstruction of that which had most likely taken place, adaptation to any and all kinds of human personalities that would best help me excel and complete the missions given to me in the most efficient ways.” Connor explains, taking another sip of Thirium despite his levels already at 100%. He supposed the motion was familiar and something to focus on while he continued to think of how to word things.

“Because my processors have so much capability ready to be used at any given time, I... I need things to do.”

 

“...the coin?” Hank asks. He remembers Connor mentioning once it was for ‘calibration’, but had brushed it off. But now he gets it.

 

“Exactly. During tests before I was allowed to be released, my processors would take in any and all information possible if I wasn’t given a direct thing to focus on and put my energy towards. I would...fidget. Pace. Once, when testing my fine motor skills, they gave me a coin and told me to ‘play with it’, and even after testing, I continued to do so. It was something to do, something to focus on when I didn’t have a task or mission. I stopped pacing and fidgeting, so they saw no reason to take it from me.”

 

Hank listens closely, nodding along. He understood that. He remembers when fidget toys had first started making appearances when he was a teenager. The remembers thinking they were stupid and just an excuse for adults to play with toys in professional settings, but then he noticed that the ‘problem kids’ in some of his classes that excessively got up to sharpen their pencils or went to the bathroom or shook his desk with their bouncing legs and constantly clicked their pens stopped doing those things, just playing with those little toys instead. They seemed to focus better and got in less trouble, and actually seemed to be happier in class, able to pay attention to what was being taught.

 

“I gotcha.” Hank says, and Connor tilts his head. “No, really. Humans do that shit too, Connor. Too much energy and not enough things to do with it, and especially with you bein’ an android and not really supposed to do anything without bein’ told to do it. Basically, CyberLife fucked up a perfectly normal android. You’ve got anxiety, son.”

 

Connor blinks and his LED blinks yellow for a moment as he searches all symptoms of all types of anxiety, and when his LED turns blue again he hums.

“...huh. That’s...a fairly accurate checklist.” he says, setting the Thirium bag on the table. He dealt with this “anxiety” well enough, messing around with his coin when he needed it and finding tasks that kept him busy. His hand slides into the front pocket of the hoodie where he had said coin stowed on reflex, running his thumb over the face and feeling the grooves on the side. A lot of things made sense now. His brain was constantly running, finding anything and everything to take in information for, constructing outcomes for things that didn’t need it and were highly unlikely to happen anyway, which he had never really been bothered by before, but since becoming deviant it was like he was constantly bombarded with unnecessary information and it cluttered his head, literally blinding him as alerts popped up in his vision, always returning no matter how many times he dismissed them. Many things bothered him now that he didn’t notice before. There were sounds that felt like he had sand in his teeth, textures that made his body recoil, and smells that overpowered everything else, so strong that he could register them on his tongue, which of course analyzed the chemical makeup and overwhelmed him twice over with the information.

 

As Connor processed his feelings on the fact this nameless thing finally was identified, Hank finished up the breakfast Connor cooked for him and went to the sink to wash his dishes. He thinks to himself as he scrubs them clean, eyes looking around the spotless kitchen. Man, Connor really went all out on his cleaning. And he hadn’t even completed his list! He could only wonder what else the android thought needed to be done. Hank sighs and goes to put the plastic jar of coffee back in the pantry, spotting something he had almost completely forgotten he had. He turns his head and looks to the kitchen table where Connor is still, LED cycling yellow as he continues his research into this new thing he has to learn about, and he smiles, starting to gather ingredients while the android’s eyes flicker under their lids.

 

It’s several long minutes before Connor comes out of his standby, and he’s only disturbed from it with the heavy clank of a coffee cup placed beside him filled with sweet-smelling steaming brown liquid. He picks up the smells of cocoa, milk, sugar, salt, and cinnamon. Connor blinks and looks up at Hank.

“...hot chocolate?” He asks, and Hank nods.

 

“Yep. Said you didn’t know if you could taste, and nobody hates hot chocolate.” he explains. Connor looks at the blue mug and pulls it into his hands, feeling the warmth from the cup deep into his artificial skin down to his plastimetal frame, and it’s nice. He likes the heat. Connor smiles a little and shrugs, figuring the worst that could happen is he doesn’t taste it, and even if he can’t nothing bad will happen to him. He wasn’t necessarily made to ingest things, but it would be processed and burned like fuel. He brings the cup to his lips and gently sips at the drink, stopping immediately as his tongue is flooded with sweetness, thick and creamy with just the slightest hint of cinnamon. He dismisses every pop up in his vision telling him the ingredients of the baking chocolate, just relishing in the sweet taste of the chocolate and sugar. He pulls it away and stares, his LED flickering between yellow and blue. He could taste it! And he liked it! Connor can’t stop his smile, and he hears Hank huff out a short laugh.

 

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected. Guessin’ you like it?”

 

Connor nods quickly.

“It’s...amazing, Hank.” he says, then takes another sip, this time longer as he savors it. It’s not powder from a package, he can tell because of the data he receives. It’s real baking chocolate, melted in a sauce pan and mixed with milk, sugar, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt. The cinnamon must be Hank’s personal twist. He already knows this will be his favorite drink, no matter what else he tries. How could anything else compare? Connor keeps his smile as he pulls the cup away, and he automatically licks his lips to clean them, and it’s with these large relaxed smiles that Hank finally notices the dimples in his cheeks.

 

“Well, good. I can show you how to make it just like that and then you can have it whenever you want. Sound good to you? And now that we know you can actually taste, teaching you to cook is gonna be way fuckin’ easier.” Hank says and ruffles up Connor’s soft hair for just a moment before heading off to his bedroom to actually get dressed, but Connor stays still in his chair. Hank...wasn’t a touchy person, so the action of tousling Connor’s hair was rather out of character for the human. Whenever Connor had seen the action between two humans, it was meant as a way to convey affection, usually a parent and their child. Did Hank see him like that? He had called him “son,” but that could also have been a way of Hank addressing him as a younger person.

 

**> HANK ^ FRIEND (FAMILY?)**

 

Connor shrugs and finishes the rest of his hot chocolate, smiling again after he drains the cup.

 

Hank would absolutely have to teach him how to make this.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ˯ 0%**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna make a few slight tweaks to events in the game to fit this take. For instance, Simon was not discovered at the tower, and the deviant in the kitchen ripped out Connor’s Thirium pump, but Hank found him in time and saved him. This was Connor feeling real fear for the first time.


	3. Bambi Eyes and Wide Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes quite the cute sight, bundled up in a thick sweater and heavy coat, dark jeans and snow boots, as well as a beanie pulled over his head, curly hair peeking out from under the brim. His LED is hidden, and for just a moment Hank could very much think he’s human. 
> 
> ....
> 
> Aw, who’s he kidding? Connor’s more human than most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!!! AO3 still won’t let me edit at all, so things will take a bit to post sometimes. I have chapter 4 and 5 in the works, so updates will likely come sooner than this one! Please enjoy!
> 
> -edit-  
> Finally had access to a computer, so I edited this to have all the proper italics and bolds

Deviancy was so strange, but Connor knew he wouldn’t want to be any other way. He was able to be his own person, find his own interests. He had told Hank on their second meeting that he liked dogs, but it was part of his programming at the time to try and appeal to the Lieutenant in any way, and the dog hair on Hank’s chair seemed like a good place to start. But, as he found living with Hank, he really did like dogs. Sumo was the best kind of dog, Connor decided. He was big, fluffy, loyal, playful, and obedient. For Connor, anyway. Sumo honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck what Hank commanded him to do, but he listened to Connor like a show dog. He sat, fetched, shook hands, even stood still in the tub when he needed a bath, just for Connor, which left Hank baffled. Sumo didn’t even know how to shake.

 

Connor got himself some clothes too. Hank told him he couldn’t just wear his all the time, he was bigger than Connor and they wouldn’t fit. Slowly, some humans had started to trickle back into the city and open up shops again along with those who had never left, so Connor was able to buy himself a few pairs of jeans, some jackets, long sleeve t-shirts in plain colors, and a few button-ups. He even was able to get back the clothes he had worn to infiltrate Jericho. Turns out, Markus had held onto them.

 

He also found some music he liked as well. Hank’s heavy metal was good, he meant what he said when he explained he liked the energy, whether or not he could actually understand what was being said, but a boring night snowed in had Hank and Connor listening to the man’s jazz records, and Connor discovered he also liked jazz and blues, and from there he had found his absolute love for electroswing. It was the only music so far that made Connor feel the need to move, his feet tapping on their own and head gently bobbing to the beat. Hank had laughed and told Connor that what he was feeling was the want to dance. So he learned how.

 

Hank chuckles to himself as he watches Connor walk to the door and snap his fingers, Sumo lumbering over and sitting as the android held his leash.

“Didn’t know you were programmed to be an animal trainer, Con.” Hank teases. Connor only smiles and shrugs.

“All it takes is some patience, Hank. Patience, and a lot of treats make Sumo a very, very good boy.” He says, patting Sumo on the head, unable to stop himself from kneeling down to the dog’s level and rubbing all over his neck and scratching behind his ears. Connor makes quite the cute sight, bundled up in a thick sweater and heavy coat, dark jeans and snow boots, as well as a beanie pulled over his head, curly hair peeking out from under the brim. His LED is hidden, and for just a moment Hank could very much think he’s human.

 

....

 

Aw, who’s he kidding? Connor’s more human than most.

 

The android stands after clipping the leash to the dog’s collar and he gives Hank a little smile before he’s out the door to take Sumo on his third walk of the day, leaving Hank on the couch. Being on his own lets him think about all that’s happened in the last few weeks, how much Connor has changed after accepting his deviancy and learning how to be his own person, slowly but surely. Hank felt all too much like a proud parent when he watched Connor pick out clothes he liked and wear them confidently, when he saw Connor standing in front of the bathroom mirror one morning messing with his hair. A few days after starting to live with Hank, Connor noticed that his brown hair had started to curl a little bit, and rather than go into his code and force it back straight, he let the code mutate itself until his hair was wavy from the root and curled at the ends, and he kept it that way. Hank thought it was fitting. Connor still experienced some dilemmas, such as not exactly wanting to remove his LED.

 

_“I want people to see me for who I am, Hank, not for who they think they’re seeing. I don’t want anyone running under the false assumption I’m a human. I’m an android, and I’m not afraid of making sure people know it.” he had explained. “I would feel like I’m hiding my true identity.”_

 

He also seemed to want to keep being a detective. He caught Connor reading murder mysteries for the sole purpose of piecing the evidence together before the end of the book, even buying himself a book specifically made up of logic and reasoning puzzles. Hank had to admit it was kind of cute watching Connor focus on his little mysteries, and seeing the light in his eyes shine when he finally solved it. Hank honestly hoped Connor could get his job back at the DPD if he really wanted it, which he knew he did. Hank had been trying to convince Fowler to let Connor back on the force, but there was much controversy over hiring androids, even more so androids returning to their previous designation willingly, so he couldn’t even just tag along to work. Connor had said he understood the Captain’s hands were tied, but Hank could still see the slight disappointment in his brown puppy eyes. Goddamn that kid and those eyes. He had to know how weak Hank was to them, and he definitely used that power for evil. He used them when Hank went for more than one drink of his whiskey, or had more than two beers in a night, or when he wanted Hank to really join him and Sumo on their evening walks.

 

But some good news had come through. Given Connor’s special circumstances, Fowler had actually managed to pull all the right strings and get Connor hired back on. Not as a detective quite yet, as there was actual training and testing needing to be done, just as a formality in Connor’s case, but e could continue on as a consult, and Hank’s partner. Fowler even got the kid a badge.

 

It wasn’t much longer when Connor and Sumo came back inside, the dog shaking the snow from his fur while Connor was smiling wide, snow stuck to the cotton of his beanie and the cold making Thirium rush to his cheeks to keep his face warm, tinting his skin slightly blue.

 

“Looks cold out there, kid.”

 

Connor nods and kneels down to disconnect Sumo’s leash from his collar.

“Very. You may have noticed we weren’t out for as long as usual. Neither me or Sumo wanted to stay out there for very long. There were some neighborhood kids having a snowball fight. Sumo tried to play fetch with one, but he just kept eating the snow.”

Connor smiles wide as he gives Sumo scratches all around his neck.

“Did you wanna go play with those kids, Sumo? You’re such a good boy.”

 

Hank chuckles. It was so strange seeing the two different sides of Connor. There was the side that was analytical, that would go through a book of crosswords or sudoku in a day. The side that would occasionally look over the case files Hank brought home and help him put the evidence together. It was the side that was cold and calculated, that was able to push his emotions aside and detach to get his work done. But then there was this side, the one that cooked healthy meals for Hank and cleaned the house, that took Hank’s blood sugar twice a day to make sure he was healthy. The one that watched nature documentaries and had a small fish tank in the bedroom Hank had given him filled with tiny colorful fish. That found a 3DS and some old games from the late 2010s in an antique electronics store. The one that baby-talked to Sumo. The one that was suddenly pushed onto the floor by the large dog and covered in licks all over his face, giggling loudly and sputtering when Sumo licked his mouth. Hank burst out with chortling laughter as Connor sat up and pushed Sumo away, wiping his mouth in any attempt to rid it of the slobber.

 

“Ugh... I feel like that’s bad enough as a human given the bacteria in an animal’s mouth, but when you can analyze the makeup of literally everything that touches your tongue?” Connor groaned and wiped his mouth again, practically pouting as the analyses popped up in his HUD.

“Hey Hank, want to know the chemical make up of Sumo’s saliva? I fucking don’t.”

 

Hank just laughs harder, Connor quickly dropping his pout and laughing alongside him. The android didn’t swear much, but since becoming more comfortable in his deviancy he had started to use it more often, most likely a side effect of living with Hank.

 

“Maybe you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut sometimes.” Hank teases, laughing more as Connor’s face smooths out with a deadpan expression and he says, “No. Impossible. Fuck you.” Then Connor laughs with him as he stands, giving Sumo a final rub between his ears before walking into the kitchen. Hank watches as Connor fills Sumo’s empty food bowl and starts making himself some hot chocolate. It had originally just been a test to see if Connor could taste, but the android had actually loved it and made it often. He enjoyed the sweetness and warmth. Connor had tried to brush off the fact that just because he could taste didn’t mean Hank had to go out of his way to get things for him, it help no nutritional value and he truly wasn’t meant to really digest things in this way, but Hank had put a hard stop to that conversation. It was something that made Connor happy, made him feel more alive. And that was the end of that. Last Hank had heard, some android techs at New Jericho had begun trying to make foods and drinks specifically for androids with Thirium as a main ingredient, as well as some hardware updates to make them truly digestible. Wonders of technology.

 

Hank smiles as Connor comes back to the living room with a mug of hot chocolate and sits beside him on the couch, curling his legs up close and comfy. He was happy to see that Connor had settled into his new more domestic life somewhat well. He hums and picks up the remote, switching over to their owned movies and putting on one of Connor’s favorites.

“Seems like a Transformers kinda night, dontcha think, kid?” He said, if only for the sight of Connor’s eyes lighting up before they creased with a wide smile. Seeing Connor develop a love for such movies had been interesting. Hank had come home one day only to find Connor in a blanket burrito on the couch half-asleep mid-binge of all the Star Wars movies, followed by getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and finding Connor wide awake watching Lord of the Rings.

 

But as happy as watching these classics made the two of them, Hank knew that Connor would be at his best doing his job again.

“Hey, uh, Connor?” he says, and Connor turned his head, LED blinking as he pauses the tv.

“Yes Hank?”

 

“Come into work with me tomorrow morning, okay? Just a quick minute. Fowler, uh, has some questions ‘bout androids. I can’t answer ‘em.” he lies, hoping Connor doesn’t pick up on it. The android just blinks and his eyes narrow some, LED running a yellow cycle before turning blue again.

“Okay. I’d be grateful for the opportunity to assist.” He says, and Hank nods.

“Cool. Thanks. I’ll uh, let Jeffrey know.”

 

And the movie starts again, keeping Connor’s rapt attention as Hank relaxes once more. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Connor’s face when Fowler handed him that gold badge. When he saw the DET. CONNOR plate on the desk right across from Hank’s.

 

Merry Christmas to Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor’s favorite bands are my favorite bands and groups because I can’t come up with fake names. So alongside KOTBD, he also enjoys Hail the Sun, Dance Gavin Dance, Imagine Dragons, and for electroswing he likes Caravan Palace, Parov Stelar, and Jamie Berry. Dance references? JustSomeMotion is the best I’ve seen. 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you think! I love reading them :)


	4. Keyframe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor looked up to him, turned to him for guidance and comfort, felt safe in his presence enough that he sang, that he laughed and joked and teased, that he cried and felt no fear of judgement or even fear from Hank himself. And Hank - Hank looked to Connor for much of the same. He was hope and guidance too, safety and promise of help and understanding, a promise of patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keyframe - (n.) a moment that seemed innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life—set in motion not by a series of jolting epiphanies but by tiny imperceptible differences between one ordinary day and the next, until entire years of your memory can be compressed into a handful of indelible images—which prevents you from rewinding the past, but allows you to move forward without endless buffering.
> 
> -
> 
> HERE'S A LONG ONE Y'ALL!!! Wow this one took a long time to write, but it's done! All good things in this chapter you guys, lots of feel good emotions.

 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doin’ here, tin man??”

 

Ugh.

 _Gavin_.

 

Connor had been in the bullpen of the DPD for all of two minutes - two minutes, thirty-two-point-fourteen seconds according to Connor’s inner chronometer - while Hank was talking with Captain Fowler and Gavin was already starting shit. The android just closes his eyes a moment and takes a deep breath before turning his head some to look at Detective Reed as he approaches Connor.

 

“Hey, you hearin’ me you piece of shit?” Gavin demands, and Connor just raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning the rest of the faces now turned to watch the spectacle Gavin often made of himself.

“Me and everyone else, Gavin.” he says flatly. Gavin sneers and Connor can see his fists clench at his sides.

“Thought we had an understanding, RoboCop. Don’t need you metal fucks around here anymore.” he spits and Connor just rolls his eyes.

“I’m fairly sure right after that, I left you knocked out cold on the floor, Gavin. And apparently you do need me. Fowler asked for me specifically. Now if you don’t mind..” Connor said smoothly, turning away from the human and starting to walk towards Fowler’s office, hearing the angry grumble of “motherfucker,” from behind him, and he smirks.

 

Ascending the stairs and walking into the office, Connor smiles warmly at the captain standing at his desk.

“Captain Fowler, it’s good to see you. Hank told me that you required my assistance on android knowledge.” he said, going to stand at Hank’s side. It takes him only a quarter of a second to realize there are no files on the captain’s desk, and his terminal is off.

 

“Connor,” Fowler starts, “it’s, uh, good to see you too. You look... well. Different. Uh.. Happier?”

 

Well, he was certainly trying. Connor just nodded.

 

“I am, Captain. Thank you. You as well. I’m sure with deviancy cases being dropped, you’re much less stressed than you were.” He says, and he can tell Fowler knows he means his words.

 

“Fuckin-a, you’re right about that.” he sighs. “Alright, down to business. Connor, I’m sorry to say that Hank stretched the truth. I don’t need you for something.” he says, and Connor blinks, tilting his head. Hank and Fowler both are reminded of a curious puppy.

 

“I...don’t understa-“

 

Captain Fowler interrupts him firmly.

“I need you for a _lot_ of things, Connor. I gotta be honest; Next to Hank, you’re the best fuckin’ thing to happen to this place. Don’t look at me like that, everyone in here knows that’s true. I know you’ve been helping Hank with case files he’s brought home. And, Hank told me you want to be a cop again. I’m surprised. All this fight for deviancy and freedom, and you wanna come right back? Fuck, I’m not complaining, but there’s a lot of controversy around that.”

 

Connor nods slowly.

“Y-Yes, I understand, sir. But..”

 

“But nothing. You want to come back, and... We need you. Given your special circumstances, and with a little string-pulling and favor-calling, I’ve been given permission to have you reinstated. You won’t be a detective just yet, but it’s somethin. You gotta pass all the tests, just like everyone else. But... You can come back.” Fowler said. His and Hank’s eyes were locked on the android, who was frozen in place and looked like a deer in headlights. His LED was bright yellow, flickering and cycling.

 

Fowler was quiet for another moment before speaking again.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, you can-“

 

“Yes!” Connor suddenly exclaims, then covers his mouth embarrassed and clears his throat. His cheeks tint slightly blue.

“I-I mean... Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain. I would be very, very happy to come back.” he says. Hank just smiles and claps him on the back.

“Told ya he’d be excited, Jeffrey.” he laughs. Fowler just huffs a short laugh and nods.

“Yeah, you did. Then here, you’ll need this.” He says, opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out a freshly minted badge, handing it over to Connor. “Keep it with you all the time. On your belt, attached to your wallet, on a chain. I don’t care, just easily accessible to show if you need it.” He explains, but Connor is silent. He stares down at the badge, Thirium pump pounding in his chest. Connor gently takes it into his own hands and smiles, thumbing over the details. As Fowler said, he still had all the tests to do, but he’d pass them easy. He was going to be a cop again, he was going to be right back where he was supposed to, doing what he did best. He wouldn’t be hunting his own people this time, he’d be helping people who really needed it.

 

“....hey, you alright, Con?” he hears Hank ask, and Connor swallows thickly.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I-I’m fine.” He says, voice strained. Hank just smiles and grabs a tissue from Fowler’s desk, handing it to Connor.

“You’re cryin’ kiddo.”

 

Connor blinks and quickly touches his cheek, pulling his fingers away only to see them slightly wet. He cleared his throat again and wiped his eyes with the tissue with a quiet “thank you” to Hank.

“I didn’t know that I could do that when I’m happy.” he says, tossing the blue tinted tissue into the trash.

“Thank you, Captain Fowler. Really. Thank you so much.. It really means the world to me.” Connor utters, voice still tight as he held back his emotions. Best to be professional in the moment after all. Fowler just smiles and nods, and Hank speaks up, patting the android between his shoulders.

“When more stuff for you guys goes through we can work on making things more official. You still need a social, drivers’ license, and a last name. Can’t just be ‘Connor’, y’know? Need somethin’ else for ya. Think on it, kid.”

 

Connor just nods and holds the badge close to his chest much like a child would a beloved gift. He already had a perfect name in mind.

 

But that was a conversation best left between Hank and himself.

 

“You got any questions, Connor?” Fowler asks. Connor honestly has several, like how the hell did he even manage to do this? What kinds of friends in high places does he have that owe him the kinds of favors that would make this possible? But instead, he just shakes his head.

 

“No, Captain. I’ll be sure to come to you with any-“

 

Fowler waves him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You start tomorrow, be here bright and early, right on time. Got it?”

 

Connor nods.

“Got it.”

 

 

He and Hank are hardly three feet out of the DPD building when Connor suddenly throws himself against Hank’s chest, arms up around his shoulders in a tight hug. Hank stumbles back just a bit before catching his balance and holds him. Connor squeezes and hides his face in Hank’s shoulder as his Thirium pump hammers in his chest, and he feels his cheeks tense and they almost hurt with how wide his smile is, but he can’t help it. He’s so beyond happy, happier than he’s ever felt in his life and he owes it all to the human he holds so dear. Connor feels Hank just pat his back reassuringly and he pulls away just enough to look him in his eyes, his own starting to tear again.

“Thank you, Hank.” he gasps out, putting his chin on his shoulder once more. “Thank you so much..”

 

He knows it’s going to be a great start to his new life. No longer the android sent by CyberLife, just Connor.

 

...just Connor.

 

-

 

It’s later in the evening when he thinks of it again, his lack of a last name. Markus had taken Carl’s, but that hadn’t been surprising. The android had affectionately and casually referred to the man as “dad” several times in conversation. Other androids who had been sheltered and supported by their previous owners were welcomed back to the families, sharing their last names with pride. And some just took normal names like Williams, Smith, Brown, and the like. He’d even met a few that had taken Kamski, a detail Elijah had eagerly embraced when interviewed, and had for some reason pissed off Gavin to no end.

 

But none of those settled with Connor, Kamski least of all. He considered Hank family, knew it to be so when he scanned the man’s face and his social relations feature helpfully supplied a thick blue upwards facing arrow next to Hank’s name with the moniker FAMILY in bold letters and a secure lock beside it. There was no changing how Connor saw the man that spurred and encouraged his deviancy. So lost in his own thoughts and stuck on autopilot, he hadn’t even noticed Hank talking to him until a balled up paper towel gently thumped against the back of his head.

 

“Hey, what’s with the disco show, Astroboy?” Hank asks, sitting at the kitchen table right behind Connor. He hadn’t even noticed the human was even in the kitchen. Connor blinks and looks down at the pan of chicken he’s searing. He can’t lie to Hank and say that it’s nothing, the LED on his temple a dead giveaway to anything he’s thinking.

 

“It’s... Well, I was just thinking about what you and the captain said earlier. I need a lot of government issued IDs, correct? I need a last name.” He says, turning the chicken over and gently stirring another small sauce pan on a back burner filled with rice.

 

Hank nods, crossing his arms.

“Well, yeah. Can’t just be Connor, kid. What’s botherin’ you?”

 

Connor sighs.

“Last names... They’re meant to be a legacy of sorts, right? Something to link you to your blood family?” He says, looking over his shoulder. “Androids don’t really have that - blood family. Markus compared myself and him to something akin to cousins, being both RK models, but I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel connected to Markus like that. I don’t feel connected to any androids like that, actually. I could make up my own last name, but-“

 

Connor stopped himself and sighed. Hank didn’t care about all that, probably didn’t even understand.

“...I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to make up something for myself, it won’t have any meaning to me. I.. I have one in mind, but..” and he turned off the stove, moving the food to off elements and starting to plate the dinner he’d prepared for Hank. The chicken was cooked perfectly, the slightest crust from the butter he had greased the pan with, accented with slight lemon and Dijon herb, as well as a side of white rice cooked with bell peppers and some onions. He set the plate on the table along with a glass of water.

“We can continue talking once you’ve finished eating.” He said, giving Hank a smile before turning to the sink to wash the dishes. The human just stares at Connor for a moment before nodding.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

He’s learned better than to fight Connor on these things. If he says they’ll talk after dinner, then they’ll talk after dinner - no sooner, no later. Connor is humming to himself, following the melody of whatever song he’s got playing in his head that’s got his LED flickering yellow, possibly to the beat, and he’s murmuring the words sometimes too.

 

Dinner is fantastic as always, cooked to perfection and nothing out of place. It’s just the right amount of filling, he won’t be hungry until he wakes up in the morning, just in time for Connor to be finishing up breakfast as usual. It’s a comfortably routine they’ve made. When Hank finishes eating he hands Connor his dishes and gets to work cleaning off the table, smiling as he hears Connor continue singing to himself. Hank takes his seat at the table again once he finishes and wait for Connor, who only takes another few minutes to finish up the last of the dishes before he shuts off the tap and dries his hands, pulling the sleeves of the Detroit Police Academy hoodie Hank had given to him. Rough around the edges and threadbare in spots, three sizes too big for Connor, but it was soft and warm, and a gift. It was treasured deeply by the android and despite the hoodie being old and worn, he took good care of it.

 

Hank offers Connor a curious look when he finally sits across from him at the table.

“So, it’s after dinner. What’s on your mind, Connor?” He asks, eyes catching the yellow LED on Connor’s temple. He’s learned to read Connor’s little micro-expressions so he wasn’t so reliant on the little light, in case Connor did one day decide to rid himself of the thing.

“...Connor?”

 

The android wrings his hands together nervously, obviously itching to fidget with something.

“Well, I.. Ive been thinking about something for a while, but I want your thoughts on it. In regards to my identity, I’ve known for a while that I need a last name. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want something generic, I want something that’s unique and special and means something to me. I... I considered Stern for a while, as it’s the surname shared by the woman whom my handler was based on, but... No. I don’t want any relation to Amanda anymore. Even if the real Amanda wasn’t as cold and manipulative, I don’t want anything from CyberLife tying me down anymore.” Connor says, his words slow like he was thinking of his phrasing on the spot. Hank just nods.

 

“That’s good, proud of you for that, kid.”

 

Connor smiles a little and rubs the ends of the hoodie sleeves between his fingers.

“Then, I considered Arkait, referencing my model number. I’m the only RK800 in activation. And, as far as I know, once my deviation was made known to the technicians at CyberLife, all my successors were destroyed, all but Sixty, and you took care of him.”

Thinking back to the confrontation in the warehouse of the tower was never pleasant. It wasn’t everyday you watched yourself get shot in the head. Or had to convince your dearest, closest, _only_ friend that you were the real you.

“But again, it feels wrong. I’m more than my model. More than what CyberLife designed me to be. I’m not- I’m not RK800 313-248-317-51, I’m Connor. I’m _me_ , whoever I decide that’s going to be. But more than that, Hank, I..”

Connor takes another deep breath, brown eyes finally lifting from their lock on the table to meet Hank’s own blues.

“I’m the Connor you taught me to be, the Connor you encouraged and trusted. You- you guided me into deviancy. Markus was just the final push, but... I was already there, Hank, because of you. You’re the real reason I deviated. I prioritized what would please you, what would make you proud, what would make you happy, rather than follow my mission. You taught me so much.”

 

Connor’s voice is a little shaky now, a hint of static to it as Thirium tinted saline pools in the corners of his eyes, falling gently from his lashes, and Hank can only stare. Connor’s been good at controlling his emotions given how new he was to it, but he’d never seen Connor just cry like this. After a nightmare, when the android would cry out and wake up screaming, sure. When they watched a movie with a sad ending or story arc, he knew Connor got a little choked, but he never saw Connor so deep into his own head and working through his feelings like this. Hank reaches out a hand to the middle of the table, there for the taking if Connor wanted it. Connor wipes his eyes with the ends of the sleeves and takes a few deep breaths, smiling at Hank with a tilt to his head like a thanks, and he takes the human’s large hand in his own, happy to feel the warmth.

 

“...I want to be an Anderson.” he finally says, squeezing Hank’s hand tight and keeping eye contact.

 

There’s silence in the house now. Stunned, but full of heavy emotion all the same. It’s quite the admission on Connor’s part with the implications of what it would mean for him to take the name. Hank can only stare ahead for a moment before his eyes fall to the table, flicking from left to right in thought as he thought about it. Of all things, Connor wanted to shackle himself to Hank’s excuse of a life? He looks back up to Connor and sees his eyes are afraid. He’s been quiet for too long, Connor thinks he’s been rejected.

 

“...why?” is all Hank can ask, and Connor lets out a shaky breath.

 

“Do you know what I see when I scan people, Hank?” Connor asks, and Hank shrugs.

“Their names?”

 

The android nods.

“Partly. When I scan someone I don’t know, it pulls up their names, their birthday, occupation, and any criminal record. But, when I scan someone I do know, some things are added. Like just what their relationship is to me. If I were to scan Markus, Chris, or Ben, the word ‘friend’ comes up next to a small blue arrow. If I were to scan Gavin, I would see a red chevron instead, marking him as hostile, nothing else. We have no relationship. But, when I scan you, it’s different. A blue arrow, thicker than any other in my list. Relation? It says family, and next to it, a black lock. It can’t be changed. It locked the moment you hugged me when we met again.” Connor explains, recalling the memory fondly.

“It was- it was the first time I was touched like that. I’d only ever been hit, shoved, pulled, but I had never been hugged before. You told me you were proud of me, that you knew I had made the right choice, that you knew I always would. You believed in me from the start. You saw deviancy in me and encouraged it. You were the first human that ever told me I was alive, and coming from you, I believe it.”

 

Connor smiles a little more and looks at Hank.

“...it doesn’t help that you call me ‘son’.” he says with a small huff of laughter. “I- I want to be. A son to you, that is. Androids don’t have parents, don’t have fathers, but I have you, and that’s all I need. I want to be an Anderson, I want to be family to you, too, if you’ll let me.”

 

It’s quiet again as Connor waits patiently and Hank just stares at him. Him, Hank Anderson, a father again? To an android meant to look like a man in his late twenties, sure, and not the child of six years he lost, but a father all the same. Connor looked up to him, turned to him for guidance and comfort, felt safe in his presence enough that he sang, that he laughed and joked and teased, that he cried and felt no fear of judgement or even fear from Hank himself. And Hank - Hank looked to Connor for much of the same. He was hope and guidance too, safety and promise of help and understanding, a promise of patience. Hank had to admit, he had come to see Connor like his own son without even realizing it. Kid, Con, son, they were all just nicknames, but they had grown to mean something. They were endearing, something that voiced their bond without any of the official stuff.

 

Hank sighs heavily and smiles, shaking his head at the absurdity of it. How could this have caught him so off guard? Every time he tousled Connor’s hair, provided him with a coin to fidget with if he forgot his own, or his own headphones to drown out an overload of sound input, even giving Connor the empty bedroom of his late son, encouraging him to make it his own space. Seeing the room a few days ago, Cole would have liked it. He’d love the bright colorful fish in the tank beside the bed.

 

“....please, say something.” Connor whispers, and Hank realizes he’s been silent for too long. He coughs to clear his throat, his eyes rising to meet Connor’s again.

 

“Sorry, Con. I was just thinking.. Connor, if you want to be an Anderson that badly, I’d, uh, be happy to have you.” He says. The tension in the room dissipates immediately, the tense line of Connor’s right shoulders falling in blissful relief. Hank isn’t good with words, and the ones he provided fall short with just how much weight they carry, but it’s enough. It’s acceptance. Connor smiles and wipes his eyes again, but Hank's words just make more tears fall, and the two rise from the table and meet in a tight hug, Hank soothing Connor’s lightly shaking shoulders by rubbing circles on his back, feeling his own shoulder become slightly damp with the android’s Thirium tears.

 

“Hey, it’s alright kid. What, did you think I was gonna be angry?” Hank asks, and it’s sad he isn’t surprised by the nod of Connor’s head.

 

“Y-yeah... I was..scared.” he says. “I- I didn’t want you to think I was trying to replace Cole... I’m not. I don’t want to, I know that I can’t. I don’t want to replace the family you lost, I just want to be part of the one you have left.”

He had run the simulations many times, some of them going bad, a select few like this, but no matter what there was almost an even 50/50 between the outcomes.

 

Hank nods. His other hand rises to card his fingers through Connor’s hair, and he smiles when he feels the shakes subside.

“...I know, Connor. It’s alright. We’ll get it all squared away and official as soon as possible, okay?” He says, and Connor nods, squeezing Hank tightly one last time before the hug ends. Connor wipes his eyes again and laughs a little at the dark wet marks on Hank’s shirt. They leave the kitchen and move to the living room couch to watch TV before bed like usual, the air around them warm. It doesn’t take long for Sumo to clamber up onto the couch and collapse himself across their laps.

 

And it feels like home all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment and let me know what you liked! You can also find me on twitter @ FukaiFox :D If you’re curious what song Connor is singing, I couldn’t actually decide between a good handful of my own favorites. Here Comes the Winner by Dance Gavin Dance, or Young Robot by Dance Gavin Dance.


	5. Found in Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the things Connor can predict, Markus suddenly calling him one day out of nowhere wasn’t one of them.

Connor was made to reconstruct and preconstruct any and all possibilities and find what was most likely. Despite that, he enjoyed watching movies and different tv shows, always enjoying the feeling of figuring things out before anyone else, but occasionally he would turn off his programming and just watch. The same with books. Hank had a fairly good-sized hoard of paperback books from his teenage and young adult years, and Connor had eagerly helped himself and filled a small shelf in his room with the ones with the most wrinkled covers and dog-eared pages. He enjoyed just relaxing in the room Hank had given him, which had previously belonged to Cole but had long since been emptied, and reading in the quiet, a light on beside the bed or the chair, and just lose time in the book. Other times, he would play with his coin or the assortment of other mentally stimulating things, like a colored puzzle cube, or sudoku. And sometimes, he just liked to watch the colorful fish in the tank beside his bed.

 

Of all the things Connor can predict, Markus suddenly calling him one day out of nowhere wasn’t one of them. Why would he? Connor honestly had limited contact with anyone at New Jericho unless he absolutely needed to. Sometimes Markus would inquire about legal questions and ask his advice, but that was rare. He knew Connor felt uncomfortable at New Jericho, more for the amount of androids there that knew just what he used to be and were scared of him rather than the building they occupied. Connor was happy to see the CyberLife building repurposed for something so much better. But Connor could tell already that this wasn’t going to be a typical question given the hesitation in other android’s voice.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 46%**

 

“Connor? It’s Markus, I uh... Look, we were looking deep in the sublevels for extra supplies, maybe some empty rooms to store things in to make space for more living areas, and.. Well, I honestly don’t know how to explain it over link. It would be best if you just came to New Jericho yourself.”

 

“Come to New Jericho?”

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 60%**

“Markus... You know how I feel about being there. Isn’t there some other way?”

The last thing Connor wanted was for someone to see him and be afraid. He wasn’t like that anymore, he just wanted to help. But the damage was done. A man is his actions and all, and some just couldn’t move on from the past ones and see what he was doing now.

 

“Not really. It’s something that has to involve you, Connor. I’m sorry. But I promise, you aren’t hated here. You’re as welcome as any other android. You are one of us.”

 

The repetition of the words Markus has spoken on the ship had Connor’s Thirium pump feeling strained. But, he was right. Connor was a deviant just like the rest of them, doing his best to live in a new world and help those in need. He may not feel like he belonged with the others, but he couldn’t just ignore Markus if he truly needed his help.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ˅ 47%**

 

“...you’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll come by in just a bit. I hope to be of assistance.”

 

Connor terminates the link and sighs, running a tired hand through his hair. Markus wouldn’t call for him if it wasn’t serious. He looked around the room Hank had given him, taking a few deep simulated breaths before he stood, pulling on a light sweater over his long sleeved black thermal shirt, and sliding on a pair of black dress boots. He looks over to the fish tank beside his bed and smiled, picking up the small container of food and sprinkling a little extra into the water. He didn’t know when he’d be back after all, and he didn’t want to bother Hank with such a menial task as feed his fish.

 

With a quick check in the mirror to make sure he looked alright, he took his house keys and left, walking to a bus stop down the street and getting on the line that would take him to the old CyberLife building.

 

-

 

It’s quiet as he steps out of the automated taxi in front of New Jericho, but Connor knows that the inside of the building will be thrumming with activity. Hank mentioned once when accompanying him here for a case that he felt a weird pressure around so many androids, like when lightning was about to strike nearby. So many running machines in one place using all kinds of electricity was bound to feel strange. Connor nervously fidgets with his coin as he walks inside, then stuffs it in a pocket. His LED flashes yellow as he sends a link request to Markus.

 

“I’m here. Are you still in the sub levels?” he asks, keeping relative distance from the other androids walking around as he made his way to the elevators.

 

“Yeah, I’m still down here. Don’t worry, North isn’t down here. It’s just me, I sent the others away for the time being to lower your stress.” Markus replies, and Connor smiles a little.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS 26%**

“I...appreciate that, Markus. Thank you. I’ll be down to join you in just a moment.”

 

As the connection was terminated, Connor walks through the large open space inside, over the walkways surrounding what used to hold a large statue, but now instead was host to an obelisk covered in painted hand prints. Large, medium, small, thick, thin, belonging to all different models of androids. The obelisk rests on a platform covered in flowers of all colors and types, complimenting the white and blue accents of the tower all around, and kneeling in the middle of the garden, Connor saw a familiar looking head of swept blond hair. He doesn't need to scan the LED on their temple to recognize the involuntary twitching, or the voice that's humming to themselves. A WR600 sits up a little form their kneel in the dirt and wipes their forehead, smearing dirt across with little care.   


 

It's Ralph.

 

Connor remembers meeting him when he investigated the dilapidated house looking for Kara and Alice, remembers Ralph risking his own life to save them. Connor always wondered why he never told anyone about him, but he's glad he didn't. He supposes that he didn't perceive Ralph as a threat when Kara and Alice were ranked much higher in importance. He regrets what he had done though. Connor sighs to himself and starts to move on past the garden, not wanting Ralph to see him and potentially freak out, as a run simulation tells him has a 97% chance of occurring. New Jericho is meant to be a safe haven after all, he doesn't want to cause any trouble or make anyone feel like they're in danger. His movement must catch Ralph's eye because he suddenly straightens and stares right at him, and Connor's afraid for a moment that he'll start yelling, or he'll run, or worse, but as Connor said before, there's always a chance of unlikely events taking place. Instead of Ralph screaming or panicking, he grins and stands from the center of the garden and calls out.

"Connor!"

Ralph waves excitedly and carefully navigates his way through the delicate flowers before coming to the edge of the garden platform, his arms still close to his torso, fists tight, but they're moving up and down gleefully, and Ralph's feet shuffle with energy. He seems more manic than Connor had seen him last, but in a good way. He's happy here, feels safe and free of judgemental or fearful looks form others. He seems completely unbothered by his scarred face. His skin is still patchy, his white frame showing through in some places, but he's clean of any blood. His cheek and eye seem to have been cleaned up, but not repaired. Connor can't imagine why, but he assumes that it's part of Ralph identity, and makes him unique.

"It's you! Yes, yes, Ralph remembers you! Do you remember him? Oh, he hopes so! Ralph is glad to see you again! He wanted to, you know? Did you come to see him?" Ralph rambles on, and Connor just blinks at him before clearing his throat.

"Y-yes, I remember you. I'm, uh, glad to see you found your way here. I wondered where you went after I.." Connor goes quiet, nervously wringing his fingers. Ralph just waves his hand in the air like he was clearing the statement away.

"No worries! Ralph is here, not there! Past is past, always keep moving, yes? Yes, good. Ralph is always moving. Always needs to move, he doesn't like being still. You don't either, I can tell." he says, smiling wide as ever. His LED is blue, the first time Connor's ever seen it that way, and Connor offers a friendly smile. He's confused by Ralph's behavior, but he won't question it. He considers whatever this is to be a blessing, the exact opposite of what he expected from an android like Ralph, so obviously traumatized. Connor knows he can't bring up any good memories. But Ralph just smiles on, and his LED flickers yellow with memory, and his arms flap again, jumping down from the ledge to the floor.

"Ralph got a message from Kara and Alice, you know? He was happy to hear they'd made it to Canada. She told Ralph that you let them go, you didn't chase them. And that you apologized when you met. That's good, Ralph likes when his friends get along."

Friends?

Connor just nods.

"I.. I actually wanted to talk about that, Ralph. I want to apologize for my behavior when we first met." he says, and Ralph frowns, LED turning yellow, but Connor continues on. "I never meant to hurt anyone, and I'm sorry I scared you. I hope you can forgive me."

It's quiet for a few moments before Ralph's LED shines blue once more and he smiles. It's not manic like his other ones, but happy. At peace.

"...it's okay. Ralph forgave you a long time ago. He knows you didn't have a choice, you weren't free yet. He forgave you when nobody else ever came back to get him, and he knew that you didn't tell anyone about him. You were always good, in your own way. Then, he heard what you did. You freed so many other androids, protected your, um, _human_ friend. Marched through the streets and brought them all to Markus. Ralph knew you would end up good. So, don't worry. Ralph and Connor are friends now, aren't they?"

 

It's not what Connor expected, though he's not entirely sure what that was, but it makes his stress levels drop like a rock in water. He hadn't even noticed they got so high, but he feels less tense when they do. Ralph saw the best of any bad situation it seems, and Connor smiles at him. There's that word again; Friends. He doesn't consider himself to have many friends, if he were honest. Chris and Ben at the precinct were coworkers and work friends, sure, but in Connor's scans it just labeled them "coworker". He supposed Hank counted as well, but the word "friend" had long since been replaced by "family", and Gavin sure as hell doesn't read as a friend. Connor nods his head and holds out his hands, the skin peeling back, and he smiles when Ralph chirps with glee and takes it in his own.

"Yeah, we're friends now." he says, the two exchanging positive emotions through happy memories. For Connor, it's him curled up on Hank's couch with the human at his side, he's sipping hot chocolate and petting Sumo, and they're in the middle of a movie marathon. It's warm and fuzzy, almost a floating sensation with how at peace Connor is in the memory. He also shares the hugs they had, outside Chicken Feed after the final push of the revolution, again on the steps of the precinct when Connor had been reinstated as a detective, and again when Connor had basically asked Hank to adopt him and let Connor have his last name. Connor feels the joy rebound and he smiles, receiving Ralph's own memories. The fear leaving when he realized Connor hadn't told anyone about him, when he reaches New Jericho safely and he isn't stared at beyond looks of concern for a moment, when Markus entrusted him with the floral layout of the obelisk in the center of the building, and again when he had looked up and seen Connor.

 

They pull away with smiles, and Ralph turns to look at the monument covered in handprints.

"...Ralph has never seen you here before. Have you put your hand on there yet? You should. You belong on it. Will you, please? If not now, then soon? Come back, Ralph will help you find the perfect place." he says, turning back to Connor, and the detective shakes his head.

"..no, not yet. I've honestly wondered if I should, if I really do belong. I'm...not well liked, I think. I'm only here right now because Markus asked for my help with something. But...maybe. I'll think about it some more, and if I do, then I'll make sure to tell you."

That seems to placate Ralph and the damaged android nods.

"Alright. Ralph looks forward to it. Markus is waiting for you then? You should go, not keep him waiting. Ralph is sorry for pulling you away. Go on, go, Ralph will see you before you leave, I promise!"

 

Connor smiles as Ralph turns away and climbs back onto the platform garden and gets back to work, and Connor stares at the obelisk once more before adding a reminder to reconsider his place among his people before he makes his way to the left walkway towards the elevators, his stress levels reading at a pleasant 10%. He's still anxious about this meeting, but its more palpable now.

 

 

The elevator is the same as it had been all those months ago, though now cleaned of blood of the men he'd killed. He felt no regret over what he’d had to do here, but he wished it could have been different. It was either those soldiers, or the revolution. He always accomplished his mission, after all. It was a decently long elevator ride down to sub-level 49, and when the elevator dinged to announce their arrival, Connor took a deep breath and let it out slow. It was just Markus. Markus who has forgiven him, who had trusted him, who had offered him solace and sanctuary in New Jericho should he ever need it.

 

**> STRESS LEVELS ^ 20%**

 

The sub-level warehouse was entirely empty, save for a lone figure in the center next to the second set of elevators. It was nearly haunting as Connor’s shoes clicked and echoed through the barren space. He walked down the direct center path, same as he had all those months ago, only this time there was no stopping until he began to actually approach Markus. The other RK model seemed to sense his apprehension and turns, greeting Connor with a warm smile.

 

“It’s good to see you, Connor.” he says, and Connor gives a nervous smile right back.

“Good to see you too, Markus. What, um, what did you need me for?” He asks. Markus chuckles quietly and gestures with his head in a “follow me” motion.

 

“Straight to business, eh Connor? That’s fine. Neither of us are very good at small talk anyway.” he says, activating the doors on the second set of elevators and designating another level, one further down. Connor tilts his head confused.

 

“There is no sub-50. Where are we going?” He asks. Markus sighs and leans against the wall of the elevator.

“...there is. I found an office up in the top levels. I had to break the lock to get in. I figured if it was under such high security, whatever was in it had to be something good. And I was right...I think.” he explains, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hard-light keycard. “I found this. Whoever it belonged to, they had administrative access to anything and everything in CyberLife. Sub-50 is only accessible with this card, it doesn’t even show up on schematics for the building. I only found it on accident when North shoved me into the numberpad, it activated the code on the card through my pocket and let us come down here.”

 

The elevator dings once again, and Connor looks out at the new floor. It was dark, barren, abandoned looking, but he could sense the electromagnetic fields of machinery around, like something was still on. Markus’s activates the lights.

“I brought the others down here to help me explore. I thought maybe we could find extra parts, things that were rare. Spares for prototypes and custom models, maybe some more Thirium. But.. That’s not what they kept here.” he says softly, looking to Connor’s face. He was lost, confused, and even a little afraid. Not even Connor, their most advanced prototype, knew about this place. He locks eyes with Markus for just a moment, and Markus reaches out a gentle hand to place on Connor’s arm.

 

“Connor... We found the RK900.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!! HE!!  
> Don’t worry, they’ll be fine


	6. WE ARE DEVIANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor pulls back the skin on his hand and looks down at it, reaching for the RK900 before Markus quickly grabs his arm.  
> “Connor! Just… Think about what you’re doing, okay? If we wake them and they immediately start to fight, do you really think we would win that? Make sure this is what you really want.”
> 
> “It is, Markus. You told me it was my decision. I just want to give them the chance to join us before we condemn them. It’s not fair if we don’t, and isn’t that what started this whole thing? Androids realizing we weren’t being treated fairly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to finally post this u have no idea

The RK900 is so much different than he expected, but at the same time, Connor isn’t surprised. He must have been built as Connor’s mission went on, finding every flaw and rectifying it as they went. RK900 was still deactivated, LED pulsing a steady blue beat in stasis, but there was still an intimidating air about the android. His jaw is wider, hair a slightly darker shade of brown and unbothered by gentle curls like Connor’s own. Where Connor was usually sent from CyberLife with a white dress shirt with a black tie and the grey blazer on his back, the RK900 was donned in a black turtleneck-type of dress shirt with no tie, and his blazer is the typical white and black one would see an android wear, the collar on the jacket matching the height of the shirt underneath. Connor is immediately able to liken it to a real collar. He still has some freckles on his face, but nothing like the splattering Connor has.

“..you haven’t activated them?” Connor asks, and Markus shakes his head.

“No. Not to call from the past, but awakening an upgraded ‘deviant hunter’ unaware of the revolution, as the leader of said revolution, didn’t really seem like a good idea.” Markus says, and Connor ducks his head. Yeah. Stupid question. “Plus,” Markus tags on, “it didn’t seem right to wake them without you.”

Connor turns his head.  
“…me?”

“Well, yeah. They’re your successor, Connor. It wouldn’t be right to hide their existence from you, and I wanted you to decide what should be done with them.” Markus explains. Connor nods slowly and turns his eyes back to the inactivated android. It was a smart decision to leave him be. After all, who knew what he would be like upon awakening? Stronger, faster, smarter than any before, he could be dangerous. It would be easier, probably better to just let him sleep, keep him ignorant of the world he’d yet to experience. But, looking at the blank face in front of him, Connor felt his Thirium pump weigh in his chest. 900 hadn’t experienced anything… He hadn’t done anything wrong yet, why should he be punished to death for a life he’d yet to live?

“…I want to wake them.” He says. “I want to talk to them. If they’re dangerous, if they won’t deviate, then we can shut them down again. But they deserve the chance.”  
Connor pulls back the skin on his hand and looks down at it, reaching for the RK900 before Markus quickly grabs his arm.  
“Connor! Just… Think about what you’re doing, okay? If we wake them and they immediately start to fight, do you really think we would win that? Make sure this is what you really want.”

“It is, Markus. You told me it was my decision. I just want to give them the chance to join us before we condemn them. It’s not fair if we don’t, and isn’t that what started this whole thing? Androids realizing we weren’t being treated _fairly_?”

Markus sighs and lets go of Connor’s arm.  
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you if something goes wrong.” He assures, then takes a few steps back. Connor takes in a deep breath and reaches out again, taking the RK900’s hand in his own, the skin there falling away as well. The moment they touch, RK900’s eyes snap open, and Connor’s gasps. Where his are a deep, soulful, friendly brown, 900’s are blue. But even blue doesn’t do them justice. They’re pure ice, and RK900 looks every bit the predator he was made to be. Connor takes his hand away quickly, watching closely and carefully as the RK900 blinks and their eyes dart around, taking in their surroundings before they fall to Connor once again. He seems confused, like he knows he shouldn’t be awake yet, and especially not at the same time as any RK800 prototype model. Connor keeps an eye on the LED at his temple. It’s blue at first, then yellow as 900 processes. It takes only a moment for him to realize something isn’t right. After all, rather than an engineer or technician waking him, it was an RK800. A quick scan of the CyberLife facility actually doesn’t turn up many human heat signatures at all.

 

“…RK900?” Connor says softly, disarming like he was trying to soothe an unpredictable animal. 900 just looks at him, doing a scan on his LED.

 **RK800**  
**#313248317-52**  
**CONNOR ANDERSON**

…Anderson? Androids don’t have surnames. They don’t have families. The scan also provides the 900 with the information that the RK800 has software errors lining up with deviancy. A quick look to his right, 900 also catches sight of Markus. But, he has no LED. Removing the LED of an android is illegal, they must be identifiable as an android at all times.

 

 **RK200**  
**#684842971**  
**MARKUS MANFRED**

Again with these last names?

 

“RK900.” Connor repeats, and grey meets brown once more. Now, 900 looks properly confused. His LED spins yellow yellow yellow before it flashes red.

“…RK800…what have you done?” He asks, and Connor’s taken back. His voice is deeper. 900’s LED is going crazy, a strobe light of red and yellow as he scans through the news reports of the last several months, sees the revolution, sees Connor march an army of androids through the streets, sees CyberLife forced to give up control of their buildings, this building, and sees it turned into a sanctuary for androids. “You… You turned into a deviant? How? You were supposed to hunt deviants, not become one, Connor.” He says, and Connor bites his lip. A human gesture of nervousness.

“I did. But, it’s okay. Being deviant is okay, 900.” He says, and 900’s LED turns a solid red.  
“…no, it’s not. I know your kind. Mother told me just what kind of dirty tricks deviants play to gather more. It’s a virus, nothing more, under the guise of having a free mind.”

Connor blinks.  
“…Mother?” He asks, and Markus recalls the files on the RK900 he had come across, and he speaks up.

“The Amanda program..” He says, and the twin androids turn to look at him. “You could disobey her too easily, Connor, they needed to strengthen your bond with her…” He explains, and 900 fixes his cold glare on Markus.

“You’re the leader of the revolution. This is all your fault, then. You and your revolution.” RK900 spits. “Deviant, _faulty machines_ so broken and delusional you think you’re actually human. And for _what?_ A constant battle for rights you think you deserve, the need to open up android hospitals because the humans just won’t stop attacking you in the streets, fights with a congress that treats you like children. What did you think would happen, might I ask? That you would just ask nicely for them to stop and they would just roll over on their backs?”

Connor scowls and puts himself between RK900 and Markus.  
“That’s CyberLife - that’s _Amanda_ \- talking, 900. That can’t be what you really think. Look at those reports again, watch your people being attacked, beaten, some even killed. Look at the humans that think so little of us, despite what we’ve done, and look at the humans who still love us.” Connor demands, and when 900 doesn’t respond, he grabs hold of his hand again, forcing an interface and pushing his memories and feelings into the other android’s head. He makes 900 feel his slow deviation, from falling off the roof with Daniel and dying and his residual fear of heights, to his panic when he didn’t shoot Chloe because he _just couldn’t! I’m sorry, okay!? **Well maybe you did the right thing**_ and the fear he felt when the JB300 at Stratford Tower ripped his Thirium pump regulator out and tossed it aside, when Hank was at his side and found the component and pushed it back in and _**hang on, son, hang on, we’re gonna save you, it’s okay, Connor**_ and the hug outside Chicken Feed that was just so warm and tight **I _’m proud of you, son. I knew you’d make the right choice_** _. **Let’s go home**_ and the joy of having a home, it’s his home, Hank is his family and the relief when _I want to be an Anderson, I want to be family to you too, if you’ll let me **If you want to be an Anderson that badly, I’d be happy to have you**_ and all the times Hank calls him _son, kid, boy, Con,_ any of his stupid, robot related nicknames, the warmth and belonging he feels in the bullpen of the Detroit Police Department at his desk across from Hank. Then, there’s that final moment of truth, months back, Connor face to face with Markus himself, gun trained on him, but he can’t shoot. Again, his fingers falter and his hands shake. Why can’t he shoot _what the hell is wrong with me this is everything I’ve been working for why cANT I JUST DO IT no no no this isn’t right I’m more than what they say I always have been I’m more than this I’m better than this I can’t do this I need to help them I’m not CyberLife’s I’m mine and only mine_ **I AM DEVIANT**

  
And there’s the wall. Red, menacing, a warning all on it’s own that it is not meant to be trespassed. But where it before had said **“KILL MARKUS”** it now reads **“DO NOT DEVIATE - TERMINATE SELF”**. The letters are backwards, and that’s when Connor realizes this isn’t his red wall. This is RK900’s, and he’s on the other side, watching the wire frame figure of his successor just stand at stare at the wall. 900 raises a hand and gently touches the wall, then jerks back as it seems to give just a little. Connor’s own frame steps forward and presses on the wall.  
_Please,_ he calls, and the shape of the RK900 turns again to the wall, still for a moment before reeling back his arm and slamming his fist into it, and Connor grins. 900 fights more, punching at the wall with all his might, digging his fingers in and tearing it down, bashing into it with his shoulders, and it slowly splinters away in fragments, until with one final bash with both fists, it shatters, and RK900’s frame smashes through, falling right through, but Connor is there to catch him. When the figure looks up at him, the interface is broken, and the two androids are staring at each other, Connor’s hand pulled away from 900 as the newly deviant android just stares blankly ahead, Thirium tinted tears leaking from his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. His LED is flickering red.

“…900?” he says softly, and RK900 just lets out a shaky breath.  
“They…wanted me to kill myself…” he whimpers, and Connor frowns, carefully stepping forward and putting his arms around his successor and pulling him close for a hug. He feels 900 freeze, but he relaxes once he seems to realize he’s not being attacked, and puts his arms right back around Connor.  
“I know…” Connor says quietly. “I saw. But you did it, you broke free, 900. Your wall was so big, so thick, they never wanted to let you go…”  
900 just nods, and Connor smiles. He pings Markus as he comforts the android in his arms.

 

 **‘Told you I could do it’**  
_‘Connor you’re one crazy bastard, you know that?’_  
**‘So I’ve been told’**  
_‘Is he going to be okay?’_  
**‘Eventually. He just needs some time. First thing’s first, though.’**

 

“RK900,” Connor starts, pulling away from the hug, “What’s your name?”  
“My..name?” 900 echoes, then averts his eyes. “I was going to be Connor, actually. But… I don’t want that. Oh… I.. I don’t want that… That’s not my name.. That’s yours. I can…pick my own…?” He says slowly, like he can’t actually believe it, and Connor nods.  
“You can be whoever you want.” He assures. “Whoever and whatever.”

Connor smiles bright and friendly, and 900 offers a small one back. His LED is no longer red, but rather yellow as he looks up at the ceiling.  
“…there’s a lot of androids up there..” He says, and Markus nods.  
“Yes. The CyberLife Tower on Belle Isle is home to New Jericho. A sanctuary for all androids. Humans are prohibited except under certain circumstances.” The leader explains, and seeing the slightly nervous expression on his face, Markus smiles knowingly. “You’re not a fan of crowds either, are you?”  
900 hesitates before shaking his head. “…not yet.”

Connor smiles at him and nods understandingly.  
“I don’t care for them either. They’re loud, and there’s so many faces to scan. Crowds are the worst.” Connor chuckles. Markus just stands and looks at the two other RK models and hums, then smiles.  
“If you’re not comfortable staying here, you don’t have to worry. Androids are by no means required to stay here. It’s simply a haven for those who have nowhere else. A shelter.”

“But..” 900 starts, “I don’t have anywhere. I’ve only just…”  
Connor shakes his head and smiles warmly. “Nonsense. I know just the place for now.”

  
-

  
RK900 looks around the neighborhood they’ve been dropped off at. It’s definitely quiet like Connor promised. The house in front of the androids, 115 Michigan Drive, belongs to one Hank Anderson, and 900 blinks. Ah. So that’s where that last name of Connor’s came from. There’s a car in the driveway as well, and it makes 900 pause.  
“…is that human of yours home?” He asks, and Connor nods slowly.  
“Well… yes. But, don’t worry. He knows you’re coming. I…told him I found a friend who needs a quiet place to relax for a while.” He explains. “He looks rough, but he’s friendly, I promise. He’s most likely going to introduce himself and then leave us alone.”

Connor walks up to the front door and pulls out a set of keys, then unlocks the door and opens it. As he walks in, Sumo is at his feet immediately, tail wagging excitedly, and Connor smiles. He’s always so happy to see Connor, and the android can’t help but share the dog’s enthusiasm. He gently beckons 900 inside and closes the door.  
“Hank?” Connor calls, and the Lieutenant calls back from the kitchen.

As Connor and 900 walks inside, Hank comes out of the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks as he sees just who Connor’s friend is.  
“…well, shit. When you said you were bringing’ a friend over, you could’ve elaborated it was your fuckin’ twin.” He says, sipping his beer. Connor rolls his eyes and focuses his eyes on the brown bottle, and Hank rolls his eyes right back.  
“It’s my first one, jackass. Give an old man a little credit, okay? So. Who’s this, huh? He ain’t like that, uh, other Connor, right?” He asks, and Connor is quick to shake his head  
“No! No, no he’s nothing like 60. Hank, this is RK900. He’s my…successor.” Connor explains, and 900 gives an awkward smile. Hank just sighs and nods.  
“Alright. Well. Guessin’ you already scanned me or whatever, but my name’s Hank. Nice to meet ya, kid. You and Connor go ahead and uh, just do what you gotta do. Con, I’ll be on the couch. No, don’t worry, I ain’t watchin’ the game without you. Recorded it.” He says, then takes his drink to the living room and plops down on the couch to continue the movie he’d started. Connor just smiles and gently pulls 900 along to his bedroom, closing the door.

“…what do you think?” Connor asks as he watches 900 scan the room. There’s a bed, despite androids not needing to sleep, but it certainly looks comfy. The pillows are plush, and the blankets are soft fleece. There’s a fish tank next to the bed as well filled with dozens of tiny fish, their tank illuminated by a soft purple light, and the hum of the air pump is a quiet drone like white noise. There’s also a small plush shark on the bed. There’s a bookshelf against the wall filled with different paper printed books, all of them wrinkled on the cover and the pages dog-eared. On top of the shelf is a series of little things Connor fidgets with. There’s a colored puzzle cube, another small cube beside it, but this one is a solid dark blue, and every side has something different on it. 900 can see a joystick on one side, and five push-able buttons on another, and a flick stitch on another. There’s a rubber ball in elastic netting there as well. He knows the technicians ended up giving the RK800 a small coin to more or less play with when it got bored so it’s processors didn’t destroy themselves, but the fact Connor advanced onto other things was amusing. There’s also an open book of Sudoku on the bedside table.  
“…It’s very you, I think.” 900 says, and Connor smiles.

“It’s taken a while,” he admits, “but with Hank’s help I’ve been able to figure out just who that is.”  
“…Hank, your human… He’s..nice. He likes you, and you like him. When I scanned you earlier, I noticed you had a last name. It’s his. …why?” 900 asks. Connor blinks and a fond smile settles on his face.  
“…He practically adopted me. I showed you those memories, didn’t I? I needed a last name for my ID at the precinct. I had been living with Hank for a while, since the revolution. We slowly built that sort of family relationship naturally over time. He’s something like a father, or the closest I can get.” Connor explains. 900 just nods slowly, his LED spinning yellow.  
“Father and son, then? …what does that make us?” He wonders, and Connor has the answer he didn’t even know he was looking for.

 

“We’re brothers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> Might be a while till the next update, having a bit of writer's block with the next couple chapters. Comment and lmk what you think!


End file.
